Match Met: Checkmate Bitchez
by WelcomeToTheMurder
Summary: Jake Peralta may have finally met his match - the female version of himself - when a new detective is transferred from LAPD. They're going to have to learn to stop spilling soda and cereal all over everything for ten minutes and grow up a smidge to solve cases together...or will the NYPD fall apart like a month old pizza box?
1. Butcher Bitchez

MATCH MET: CHECKMATE BITCHEZ

Disclaimer: I don't own Brooklyn Nine Nine or the characters from the show.

CHAPTER ONE:

Joey Butcher was going _nowhere_. He was well and truly cornered. The alleyway was blocked by LAPD squad cars behind a _very_ large wire fence. Anyone could see that Joey Butcher was 100% regretting his cool 'jump out the first story window' move to shake off the two cops chasing him. He looked frantically around him - if only he could find something to use to either scale the fence or climb back up into someone's window. The one dumpster was chained opened and empty. Maybe if he could just - suddenly a rope whacked the ground in front of him. He spun around to face it, hands out to protect himself. The rope wobbled slightly, then a cop slid quickly down it from the LAPD chopper above. Butcher cursed loudly. _Since when did the LAPD use choppers?!_ Butcher snapped back to realty as a young girl landed in front of him expertly, crouching down with one small hand on the ground to steady herself. In between her teeth, a knife glinted in the soft alley light. Butcher raised an eyebrow as the girl quickly bounced to her feet, knife blade now facing outwards towards him in her hand.

"Since when they send _kids_ to catch crooks?" Butcher growled in his thick Boston accent, readying his body to throw a punch if need be. The girl pushed some messy reddish-brown hair out of her face and gave him a smirk.

"Well then Joey Butcher, I guess you could call this a _kid_ napping by _the law_ , because you're under arrest."

In one quick movement the girl crouched again, then shot her right leg out and knocked Butcher's feet out from under him. He was on the ground in the dirt before he even knew what was happening. The girl dug her knee into his back as she cuffed him, then turned her walkie talkie on.

"Marshmallow, did you film _all_ that?"

The radio buzzed. "I sure did Ca - I mean - Ghost Rider. It was pretty cool. _As usual_. But I still don't understand why I have to be Marshmallow? I mean, it's not the best code name-"

"Because you're soft and squishy, we've been over this. Hurry up and get this perp back to the station, I've got a date at 6 and you still need to run to the Beverly Hills Centre to get me something to wear."

"Oh of course Ghost Rider, I didn't-"

The girl's other female partner was cut short as three policemen finally broke through the fence with bolt cutters. They grabbed Butcher and pulled him up. He turned to the small female cop.

"You're dead meat girl. You're _done_."  
Butcher spat at the girl's feet.

"If I had a dollar for every time I heard that, I wouldn't be in _crushing debt_ so jokes on _you,_ " She replied, smiling widely and putting her hands on her hips.

Two males cops dragged Butcher into one of the squad cars. The female cop watched them go through the chainlink fence, then carefully climbed through the hole the other officers had cut. Her partner joined her, mouth full of hotdog.

"You are _so_ cool Cat. Like my mum loves _you_ more than she loves me."

"I know, she rang me this morning," the first cop said, sliding on her black aviators. Her smaller, more plump partner coughed loudly on some hotdog. The first female rolled her eyes as her radio crackled to life. Her captains voice burst into her ear.

"Caine, I need you back here asap," he said. "We have a lot to discuss. Firstly, good work on the case. The chopper paid off, I'm glad. We'll discuss the rest when you're here. Hurry back."

The first female sighed. "Capitan needs to talk to me. If he's cleaned out my locker again, that's on him. Dunno why I keep getting in trouble for that."

"Well the gummy bear thing was _kind of_ gross Cat, you have to admit."

"Okay Sam, I dunno what your problem with gummy bears is but it stops. Now."

"Cat! I've told you a hundred times! They aren't a real food source!"

"You're not a real food source," the first cop muttered under her breath as she climbed into the passenger seat of their squad car. The second female climbed in after her and started the car.

"Still a good day," the first female said. "What could possibly go wrong from here?"

As it turns out, a _lot_ could go wrong. And it did.  
Cat awkwardly took her vest off and hung it over her desk chair, unzipped her hoodie and started to take it off.  
"Uh, Cat...you might want to put that back on before talking to the dentist. There's like, what? Soup down the front of it."  
Cat frowned at her partner. "Sam. Why would it be soup? Who even eats soup if you aren't ninety and have teeth? Come on man. Obviously it's pizza."  
"You should let me teach you how to cook. It'll be fun! And so much more healthy for you. At least then you'll be getting _some_ of the items from the food pyramid into your system. That isn't covered in grease and cheese." Sam shrugged her arms and flopped down at her desk across from Cat's.  
"First of all: a slice of pizza is a triangle shape, therefore is a food pyramid, and second of all: I don't need to _learn_ anything because I live in a time when YouTube is around."  
Sam threw Cat a disgusted look but kept her mouth shut. She watched her friend disappear into the captain's office, closing the door quietly behind her.

"Detective, well done on the Butcher case. The commissioner was breathing down my neck in regards to the helicopter but it paid off just as you said it would."  
The captain leant back in his chair, putting his fingers together in front of his face. Cat waited. Whenever the fact bald man did that, it meant trouble - usually for Cat.  
"Is this about my complaint? About not getting my own star outside?"  
The captain frowned. "How many times do I have to tell you no?"  
Cat sighed. The 'Hollywood walk of fame' style driveway outside the LAPD was lame because Cat Caine's name wasn't on it.  
"Whilst you were out, we got a phone call from another police unit. Ted Butcher, Joey's brother, broke into your apartment in an attempt to plant explosives."  
"Would the insurance-"  
"Caine, you'll die first."  
"Ah. I see."  
"The unit chased him on foot but he escaped. Apparently Joey contacted him at some point before you arrested him and Ted somehow has already found out _who_ arrested him. So he's after you now. The team is pulling footage from near by CCTV. I'm assuming the brother would have had to be near by."  
"So we go after Ted now?"  
The captain rested his elbows on the desk and rubbed his eyes.  
"Well actually, I'm taking you off the case."  
"What?! That's frog shit sir, you _know it._ "  
"Caine! Your _life_ is in danger! A detective from the 99th precinct is on annual leave for six months - you'll be replacing their position until such time as it is safe for you to do so. I have flights booked. You are to leave right away. I will have Sam bring your stuff down over the next few days."  
"Okayokayokayokayokay. Where is this 99th precinct then?"  
"Brooklyn. New York."  
Cat threw her head back. "Nnnnnnnnnnnnooooooooooooooooooooooooo"


	2. Welcome To The Party, Pal

MATCH MET: CHECKMATE BITCHEZ

Disclaimer: I don't own Brooklyn Nine Nine or the characters from the show. Okay, okay, now we get into the real story, yew! Cool cool cool cool cool cool.

CHAPTER TWO:

Had I known what Captain Raymond Holt was like, I one hundred present _would not_ have worn grey sweat pants, an old LAPD top and a hoodie - especially since the hoodie was dark grey, and the sweat pants were light grey.  
"You must be detective Caine? I'm your captain, Holt. Why is your hoodie a seperate colour from the sweat pants detective? Is it not...a set? I trust tomorrow when you start work here you'll find something more...professional."  
"It's like you're trying to ask me to wear a tie," I groaned, screwing up my nose. _Man, this captain is gonna be no fun at all._  
"I won't object to it."

"Okay. Weird."  
"Detective, I understand things may be laid back in California, but the NYPD is one of the best-"  
There was yelling from the bullpen. A short red haired woman stuck her head in the door.  
"Scully is on fire again," she said, then vanished, not once looking up from her phone.  
"Maybe it's time I end this and introduce you to your new peers. You'll have to go downstairs and sign out your badge and gun today before you officially start tomorrow."  
"No probs boss," I muttered. Holt's eyebrow shot into the sky. _Man I can't wait to prank this guy._

"Everyone. Attention here please. Scully, you're still smoking."

"Sorry captain. I left my pie in the microwave again."  
"Anyway. This is detective Caine. She has transferred from the LAPD. Please, make her welcome. Peralta, she'll be with you whilst Santiago is away."  
There one stared back at me. I shoved my hands into my sweat pants pockets and grinned awkwardly.  
"You don't look like you're from California. I thought you'd be tanned. And male. I basically pictured you like a tanned, blonde copy of Terry."  
I screwed up my nose at whoever had said that - the red head from before.  
"Ah no."  
"Why did you transfer?" A short man said, pulling on his tie. He had short black hair and was eating something that smelt like turps and rocket salad at his desk. I frowned.  
"A prep I arrested, Joey Butcher, sent his brother to kill me. He filled my apartment with explosives."  
The guy Holt had called Peralta spoke up.  
"Well that's cool. How many people did he butcher? Also. How often do you get to see the Nakatomi Tower?"  
I sat down at my new desk and put my feet up, rubbing my sneaker together. "Actually, that's the coolest part - it's his _real_ birth name. He killed twenty six women by choking them with a bike chain. And that's a trick question. _Obviously_ you can see the tower from my apartment balcony, what do you think this is? Amateur hour?"  
There was silence. Peralta was gazing off into the distance, looking impressed.  
"You start tomorrow? Is that why you're wearing your PJs? I'm Charles Boyle, by the way. I'm Jake's best friend." The short man pointed at Peralta who grinned back at me.  
"Why does everyone keep commenting on my clothes? This is _so comfy._ And is that why're you're here? To be...Jake's best friend?"  
"Yep."  
Jake Peralta rolled his eyes. "No Charles. You work here. You're a _detective_."  
"Well that comes second to you Jake."  
Holt sighed. "Good God. Sergeant Jeffords will be able to help you if you have any questions."  
We all watched the captain leave the bullpen. Jake leant forward at his desk.  
"How'd you catch Butcher?"  
I smirked. Finally some cop talk. "Easy. I found a marking on the neck of one of his victims. Turns out it was part of a serial number from the chain. I traced the chain part number back to On-Point Performance bike shop in LA, got footage and a copy of the receipt. Everything matched, I got a warrant and searched his house. Found two of the three bike chains used in the murders. Ended up cornering him in an alleyway by sliding down a rope from a chopper."  
Jake Peralta looked like he was going to slide off his chair and onto the floor and start convulsing.  
"Wow, wish we could have seen it," Boyle said sadly. "Jake loves that sort of stuff."  
"Here." I pulled out my phone, flicked to the video and handed my phone across the desk to Jake. He watched the entire thing twice, then passed it around.  
"I think we're going to be good partners. Now. Favourite 'Die Hard' quote?"  
"But not too good," Boyle snapped in the background.  
"Clearly 'welcome to the party, pal.' Like as if that isn't going on my tombstone when I die."  
Jake nodded, looking impressed.  
"That's cool," someone said behind me. I spun in my chair to find a badass looking woman with curly lack hair, wearing all black - complete with black leather jacket.  
"I'm Diaz."  
"Diaz...?"

"Yep. That's all you need to know." I watched her walk off.  
"Okayokayokayokay. What a hot bitch."  
"She's a lone wolf that one," Jake said majestically. He flicked a crumb off his keyboard into his open desk draw and closed it with his shoe. I frowned.  
"Lone wolf title of your sex tape," I said as I stood. I smirked at my own joke and glanced around. Every single person was staring at me, mouth wide. Everyone except Jake, who was picking at his teeth with his pen, using his badge as a mirror.  
"I'll see you guys tomorrow then," I muttered, giving a quick awkward wave. I didn't turn around until the elevator doors shut behind me, still feeling their eyes on the back on my neck.

After Caine had gone, the squad looked around at each other.  
"Did anyone else just see what happened there?" Gina asked, putting her phone down on her desk.  
"Yep. It was terrifying," Rosa muttered, glaring down at Jake.  
"What?" Jake asked, looking around the room. He couldn't quite place the vibe.  
"She's a female Jake clone. She's _Jake._ There's _two of them_ ," Gina said, closing her eyes.  
"I saw. What on Earth have I _done_ ," Holt said, reappearing behind Jake.

"You guys are being dramatic," Jake grinned. He put his feet up on his desk and rubbed his sneakers together. Everyone in the room groaned loudly.


End file.
